


Suicide Season

by scenesyk0z



Category: Bring Me The Horizon
Genre: Angst, Boyfriends, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicide Attempt, bmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 16:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30125391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scenesyk0z/pseuds/scenesyk0z
Summary: TW // Suicide, drug abuse
Relationships: Matt Nicholls/Oliver Sykes
Kudos: 2





	Suicide Season

19th of November, 2009.

The day before my 23rd birthday.

I should have been happy. Tomorrow was the day I could see everyone I missed - my friends, my family, my boyfriend - and yet I couldn't bring myself to even smile. The weight of the world was crushing me. Destroying me. Killing me. I looked in the bathroom mirror, but I didn't see me. Oli wasn't looking back at me; no, it was a shell of what Oli once was. The shell of a man who had been so happy, so eager, so carefree. Carefree, too carefree, running into the road, drinking too much, kissing who he wanted, fucking who he wanted. 

I say he, because I can't see him as myself.

When I look in my dirty bathroom mirror, smeared with a thick layer of dust, I see an addict, a disappointment, and a failure. Undeserving of my brother, Tom, who would do anything and everything just to see me smile. Undeserving of my parents, who cared for me endlessly, always by my side. Undeserving of my friends and bandmates, who were the only reason I got out of bed in a morning.

Undeserving of Matt. Where do I even begin with him? He's my diamond in the rough, my light in the dark, my angel in this hell on Earth. Undeserving of his warm embrace and his sweet, delicate whispers, like he was afraid to shatter my glass heart. 

Why did I hurt him like this? He says to me, everyday, "Oliver, your addiction doesn't make you any less human. I promise you, we'll get through this." But I can see through the façade. I can see sorrow glimmering in his eyes, but he never blinks away the tears. He doesn't want to break. I can see how he treats me like I'm at my breaking point, like any pressure will push me over the edge. I hated to admit it, but he wasn't wrong. 

I stared into my own sunken eyes, the olive green turned dull grey. There was no light of life, no hint of anything beyond my clouded gaze. Not even sadness.

Emptiness is quite suffocating, I decided. Somehow, nothing is simultaneously everything, and insignificant begins to feel so significant, too significant, a silent, creeping killer in the dark. I ran a pale hand over my unshaven face, stubble prickling my fingers, and I sighed deeply. I should call someone, call Matt, but my phone felt too heavy to handle. It was like I'd picked up a brick, and I set it down on the cold ceramic of the sink, not caring when it slips into the basin. The noise rushed through my ears, awakening me, awakening my dormant thoughts, the ones I tried to hide away and never set free.

I knew I needed a fix. I could feel it, the ache in my body, screaming out, making my fingertips numb and my legs heavy. But I wouldn't. Doing drugs would kill me slowly, and I needed something fast, and easy. Something that would make it so much easier, so much easier to watch the drugs flow out of me and leave me as empty as I felt. Guns weren't an option - I live in England, getting my hands on one would be painstaking, and too much fucking effort - so I settled for a metal blade, one that I should be using to shave my disgusting face. It made me sick to think of how I looked, so gaunt and lifeless, like a walking corpse. I didn't feel much different to one, either. My usually straight hair was wild and curly, overgrown, and it looked more like a bundle of sticks than hair, and my typically warm skin was pale and cold. I picked up the cold blade from the edge of the bathtub, running my fingertips along the cool steel, unconcerned when I drew blood. I was used to the contrast of warm, red liquid trickling across ghostly white flesh, and the familiarity was almost calming to me. 

Which way would be fastest?

I could go for my wrists, and feel myself fade as I watched the crimson pool around me, like a deadly poison spilt on the blue tile.

I could go for my neck, too, and feel white-hot pain, unimaginable, before I lost all consciousness and fell to the floor. 

I decided to go for my wrist, as it would be far less dramatic. Oli was always one to cause a scene, but I'm not Oli anymore. I spun the blade between my fingers, letting it become slippery with blood. I pondered on my life, slipping away into my tortured mind. What would my friends say? Would they move on, and find a new singer, a new lyricist, or would that be the end of everything I'd worked so hard for? Would they be too upset to continue their dreams? I assumed probably not. I wouldn't blame them, either. I'm nothing special, and that much is obvious. I was dragged from my head when I heard my front door creak open, and a cold shock washed over my body, and I suddenly became all too aware of my surroundings. It was then I realised that midnight had struck. 

I was 23, and I had started this new chapter with a blade in my hand. 

"Happy birthday!" I heard my bandmates yell, and I dropped the blade in shock, the sound of metal on ceramic echoing throughout the room, like it was trying to give away my hiding place.

It succeeded. 

A herd of hurried footsteps rushed over, rapidly approaching, and my heart began to beat out of my chest. I couldn't face so many people at once, but my voice was too weak to stop them.

To my dismay, tattooed hands pushed open the off-white door, and I averted my gaze to the floor, desperate for this to be over.

As if reading my mind, Matt whips his head to my bandmates, and gestures for them to leave. "Give us a minute," my boyfriend mumbled, and my friends migrated to the kitchen, saying things I couldn't hear, in hushed voices.

My beloved's eyes fell upon the blade on the floor, and warm hands clasped my cheeks, gently pushing my face up. My jade eyes locked with emerald ones, that were swimming with deep concern. I felt myself becoming vulnerable, as his worried gaze analysed every emotion I had kept hidden for so long, and I couldn't take the strain anymore. I crumbled, hot tears streaming down my face, reservoirs of feelings; and the dam had been opened. Heavy sobs wracked through my body, unleashing themselves as terrible screams, tearing through my throat until I couldn't breathe any longer, until my sobs became silent and the aftershock came. The tears kept flowing, and the tremors shook me to my core. Strong arms wrapped around me, protecting me from the demons I'd set free, and I weakly held on, like my life depended on it, refusing to let myself drown. 

"Oliver... what were you doing, darling?"

The soft spoken name of endearment set me off again, and my boyfriend held me tighter, shushing me, running his tender hands through my unruly locks. He let me cry until there were no tears left, and my voice was merely a murmur. 

"I was gonna kill myself, Matty... I felt- felt like the ket was makin' you hate me, I couldn't stand it, and the withdrawal, it was- it was like a permanent comedown, and it fucking hurt, babe, and I just wanted it to stop. Please, Mat, make it stop. Make it all stop, I can't do this anymore..." My meek pleadings seemed to make his heart ache, and I met his eyes once more. 

A tear slipped from them as he squeezed me tight, balling my hair in his fists and mumbling into my skin, "Don't you ever leave me. I'd follow right after you, Oli. I won't let you go. I love you, I love you more than I could ever love anything, and I will fight by your fucking side until we beat this fucking addiction, because I won't let it take my angel away. I won't, I'd rather die."

He held me for ten minutes longer, both of us clinging like we were each others life support, and in that moment I knew that there was so much more to life than sitting around and letting myself go under. I pulled myself free of my lover's grasp, grabbed him by the face and kissed him until I was breathless. Scarlet blood still oozed from my fingers, and smeared on Matt's flawless face, but I couldn't care less. All I wanted was to kiss him until everything stopped. As we both pulled away, I felt my washed-out skin flush pink, and finally had the energy to smile at him. 

"I love you too." I whispered, eternally thankful that he was in my life. Looking at him was like looking at a God, and I couldn't believe how lucky I was - more so, I couldn't believe how I almost threw that all away. 

A knock on the bathroom door made me reluctantly drag my eyes away from Matt's, and my friends pushed their way into the cramped bathroom, engulfing me in a warm hug.

"What the fuck were you thinking, idiot?! Are you crazy, I could-" Jordan started, but he was silenced by a glare from Lee, who greeted me with a sympathetic smile and a cup of tea. Vegan ruffled my hair and smiled too, and I looked around at the people I almost lost, grinning feebly.

22\. On the verge of suicide, alone, with no-one to turn to.

23, surrounded by my friends, who cared about me and wanted me to be happy.

Maybe I was going to make it. Maybe today was going to be more than a chore. Maybe today would help me on my feet, and help me regain my strength. Maybe I could reclaim my name that I once bore so proudly.

"Happy birthday, Oli," Matt mumbled, and upon hearing my name, I broke into tears once again - but this time, I was happy to be Oli, and even happier to be alive.

**Author's Note:**

> AN //  
> Hello my loves! Just wanted to publish a story to let everyone know that you are never, ever alone. 
> 
> If you ever feel like Oli, here are some numbers you can call.  
> https://www.opencounseling.com/suicide-hotlines
> 
> Please leave kudos if you enjoyed!


End file.
